


Julia's Diary, sometime in May

by journeytogallifrey



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeytogallifrey/pseuds/journeytogallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Winston, it is always about politics. Politics and death. Julia reflects after their meeting in the belfry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Julia's Diary, sometime in May

**Author's Note:**

> School assignment - write one of the first few meet-up scenes from Julia's point of view, as if she were writing in a diary.

I've done it again! I have met Winston in the belfry. He is going back now, but I've stayed to write it all out. This is, of course, on his advice. He writes things too – calls it a 'diary.' He told me today, in the tower. Lucky man lives all on his own. Doesn't have to sneak out simply to write. He's told me all about it – he bought it at a lovely prole shop, and he keeps the dates. It is a political thing. I think it _must_ be a political thing – with him, it is always about 'overthrowing the Party.' I must confess I do not understand him sometimes. The Party is the Party, and it cannot be overthrown, and it will always be this way. We might as well just _live_ , here and now, him with me – but when Winston begins to talk about death, he stops _seeing_ me, somehow. I have to remind him that I am there at all. It makes me feel… it makes me… well, no matter. The rest of the time he is perfectly lovely.

So with him, the diary is a political thing. He says he has written it as if to others – as if it will survive him, somehow. It was difficult to turn his mind from the subject. He has even written 'Down with Big Brother.' I don't care that mine is only a silly little record of my day, because – oh, the very act! Even holding the pen is such sweet rebellion. Terribly risky. But I am careful, and they will never suspect me. And if they do – well. Best not to think of it. That sort of thought has made Winston the way he is, always afraid but strangely hopeful, believing in the oddest things – meeting with me really ought to be enough. Meeting with _him_ is enough. One day he'll come out of it. And if he doesn't… I resolve not to let it affect me. This will last. _We_ will last. Because I am clever, and because –

Oh! It is seventeen hundred, and the light is going, and still I haven't written out our conversation. It went as they always go. This time I told him about work, and the machine, but he kept asking me all these bloody questions about literature. Also, told him about Rayford. He seemed cheered to hear that Rayford was older than sixty. It's that filthy self-consciousness of his again – he's always afraid that I shall be disgusted by him. All Party members are shy like that. I explained a bit of that to Winston – what sexual privation _does_ to people. Then he told me about Katharine. His wife. It sounds as if they had a perfectly orthodox marriage – awful. One time they were lost on a community hike and ended up by a chalk quarry, and he felt some terrible urge to push her off. I should have done it. He claimed it wouldn't have helped, but I don't see how getting rid of a wife as awful as her could be a bad thing.

Of course, he started talking about death, then. I had to make a great effort to distract him. Worth it. Afterwards we made plans to meet again. It shall be in the wood.

Of all the men I've taken there, Winston (with his ideas, with his fear, with his constant _thinking_ ) worries me the most.


End file.
